Imager’s Battalion

In what seemed moments, Fifth Battalion was reinforced by the lead companies of Third Regiment, then by the rest of Skarpa’s regiment, and by Eleventh Regiment. From what Quaeryt could see, Fifth Regiment poured into the square from the western span.

In less than two quints, Quaeryt, the undercaptains, and a squad from first company detailed to protect them were almost alone in the square, except for the dying and the wounded of both Telaryn and Bovaria. Quaeryt had taken some time to drink a little lager from his water bottle, but reaching for it had been painful.

Desyrk had guided Shaelyt and Lhandor over to join the group. Shaelyt was slumped in the saddle, and Quaeryt could see red marks across his face and neck. He had no doubts that they were everywhere, as they likely were on his own body.

Quaeryt swallowed, then asked Desyrk, “Did Shaelyt’s shields take the brunt of the muskets?”

“I … think so, sir. No one seemed wounded by the volley, but he nearlike fell out of the saddle. I … we.. caught him. He’s hurt … maybe … bad…”

“He’s bruised all over,” Quaeryt said.

Desyrk looked at Quaeryt. “Like you, sir?”

“The same reason. I’m a little stronger than he is.”

“You took much more fire,” said Khalis from beside Quaeryt. “I saw it. You saved hundreds.”

“Some. Probably not hundreds.” Quaeryt looked out over the fallen lying across the square, but most of those wore blue-gray, rather than the faded green of Telaryn, and there were pikes lying everywhere.

The shields must have helped. He hoped so, because every one of his ribs hurt, and sharp pains stabbed across his chest with every movement he made. But what had also helped the Telaryn forces was that the musketeers hadn’t been able to fire a second volley without doing in their own pikemen, and the pikemen hadn’t been able to properly form up and set their pikes before Zhelan had charged them. The defense had been too complex, but it had revealed the weakness in Quaeryt’s plan. Too complicated, and too much reliance on imagers doing too many things.

He looked over at Shaelyt again. The Pharsi undercaptain was no longer slumped, but he was pale, and clearly in great pain. Quaeryt eased his mount over beside Shaelyt. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not … much.” After a long pause, Shaelyt said slowly, “Your shields … hurt like this?”

“They hurt,” Quaeryt admitted. “It’s hard to move.”

Shaelyt looked as if he wanted to shake his head, but decided against it.

“That’s why I don’t want any of us getting into the habit of shielding troopers. You and I just covered the front. What would have happened if you’d tried to shield them all?”

“I … wouldn’t be … here?”

“No. You’d be dead. So would I, if I’d tried that.” Quaeryt winced. He’d spoken too forcefully, and his body had let him know. “Drink some lager or ale, whatever’s in your bottle. It will help.”

“Yes, sir.” Shaelyt moved slowly, reaching for his water bottle.

Quaeryt understood all too well how the undercaptain felt.

After a glass or so had passed, Major Arion returned to the square with fourth company, reining up before Quaeryt. “Subcommander, sir … You’re wounded!”

“In a way. Bruised all over. So is Undercaptain Shaelyt.”

“You … stopped the musket balls?”

“We did … many of them, anyway. We weren’t able to follow the charge. What happened?”

“They did not expect us to charge so quickly. They are all fleeing. There were not that many. Two or three regiments at most … and the musketeers. Already, there are no more in Nordeau … except those who are hiding. We killed many of them. Commander Skarpa says that as many as a regiment may have escaped. Marshal Deucalon-his forces are nowhere near.” Arion’s face screwed up into an expression of disgust.

Deucalon’s absence did not surprise Quaeryt.

“When it is certain that all are vanquished, Fifth Battalion is to return to the south shore and hold it. Eleventh Regiment will join us.”

“Do you know if Subcommander Khaern has a surgeon?”

“Sir?”

“If he does, I’d like him to look at Undercaptain Shaelyt.”

“I do not know. If he does, he should look at you as well, sir.”

Quaeryt surveyed the square, trying to ignore some of the moans from the fallen men. He gestured. “Some of them need help more than we do. We’ll survive.” For now. “We’ll wait here for Fifth Battalion to finish up. Then we’ll join them for the return to the south shore.”

“Yes, sir. I will be leaving another squad with you. It is best that way.”

Quaeryt managed a smile. “I won’t argue with you over that, Major.”

He watched as Arion and fourth company headed out again, this time taking the eastern avenue from the square.

For the next two glasses, the imager undercaptains and the two squads guarded the square. Two of the troopers, who had some knowledge of wounds, did what they could for the fallen. At least, Quaeryt reflected, they kept the locals from scavenging and doing worse to the wounded who still might survive.

It was well after second glass when Zhelan returned with Fifth Battalion, and news that Eleventh Regiment would follow later. From what Quaeryt could see, the battalion’s casualties had not been heavy.

As he rode back over the rebuilt stone bridge and past the abandoned isle fort, Quaeryt could not help thinking, You can’t do this again. That, he knew, because the next time they faced the Bovarians, he had no doubt that there would be even more musketeers. Especially if someone noticed what happened here and escaped.

He also wondered who might be the greater enemy for him-Myskyl and Deucalon or Rex Kharst?

62

When Quaeryt finally reached the Stone’s Rest, he could barely dismount, and he had to request that someone else unsaddle and stable the mare. He hated asking for that, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the saddle. He almost tripped twice climbing the stairs to the third floor, and he was uncomfortable sitting in the desk chair and worried that he wouldn’t be able to move if he lay down.

He did anyway, but he hurt too much to sleep, and he kept thinking about what had happened at the square. He’d been prepared for muskets. He just hadn’t been prepared for hundreds of them all firing at him-or the front of the column. Had the Bovarians known that Skarpa would have the imagers near the front? Or had the attack in the square just been designed to catch the Telaryn forces off guard?

After thinking it over, Quaeryt still didn’t know. The comparatively small number of Bovarian defenders suggested that they’d been told to deliver enough of an attack to slow the Telaryn advance and then withdraw. Yet the defenders’ battle plan had been well thought out, and especially effective at minimizing the impact that the imagers otherwise might have had. Had it been an inspired plan designed by a junior commander who knew something about imagers and who’d seen their effect in the battle for the southern part of Nordeau? Or had it been planned by a senior commander who knew too much about Bhayar’s forces?

But even if any of those possibilities were so, why had the Bovarians risked-and lost-so many musketeers? Especially when there had been comparatively so few foot or cavalry to support them?

To Quaeryt that made little sense, and yet the planning of the defenders’ tactics showed considerable thought-although the sloppy execution had made matters less disastrous for Skarpa’s forces than otherwise might have been the case.

Quaeryt lay on the bed for several glasses, thinking, semidozing … and failing to come up with answers that satisfied him, only yet another question that he should have considered earlier. Why hadn’t he seen any cannon? The Bovarians had powder; the exploding barges had proved that. They had muskets, and plenty of those, and they had used those for years. Cannon had been used at sea for several decades, but nowhere had the Telaryn forces faced cannon.

Because they’re heavy and hard to move quickly, and Kharst didn’t expect to use them inside